


Breeding Ground

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: SGA - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of "The Return." Elizabeth gets an urgent message from the SGC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breeding Ground

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This was written for the [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=sga_flashifc)[**sga_flashifc**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=sga_flashifc) Skeevy Ancients challenge.

The alarm went off, and Elizabeth silenced it, no longer even going through the motions of the snooze button. In another six weeks perhaps she'd stop setting the alarm altogether. She had nothing to be up for, after all, nowhere to be; the most urgent tasks in her life involved a biohazard purge of the refrigerator and her ever-accumulating queue of emails and voice mails and even real paper mail, the sort she hadn't had to cope with in over two years. Instead of reading or listening to any of it, she created her own, long rambling things in the vein of _Dear Simon, how's the trophy girlfriend? Have you killed my dog yet?_ and _Mr. Woolsey, I wish to tender my resignation_ and _Dear Abby, I suspect I'm becoming an eccentric shut-in and I'm only forty-two._ She didn't delete them or throw them away, she just let them pile up where anyone could see them; she supposed she was subconsciously daring anyone, the SGC or the IOA or the superintendent, to come and see and act.

Cry for help, Kate would've called it; but Kate was back at UC-San Diego, teaching undergraduate psychology courses, and Elizabeth wasn't her responsibility anymore.

The ringing phone dragged her out of bed, not to answer it but just because she couldn't get back to sleep with it shrilling in her ear. She fixed herself some instant coffee while she waited for the machine to pick up, because she'd run out of filters last week and still hadn't gotten around to restocking; at least, she consoled herself, she wasn't eating the powder dry like certain astrophysicists she could name. Certain astrophysicists who were far, far away.

The machine picked up. _"No space for new messages,"_ it declared consolingly, and Elizabeth vaguely wondered how long that had been going on unnoticed.

Then her cell phone began to ring, the phone she'd been issued before leaving Cheyenne Mountain, the one she hadn't given out the number to. A short expedition found it in the crack of the couch cushions. The display read _NORAD._

"Hello?" she answered, heart pounding, almost aching to slip into the rhythm of crisis and response.

_"Dr. Weir, this is General Landry's office,"_ a crisp male voice said. _"You're needed at the SGC. It relates to the Atlantis project._

-\\--\\--\\-

Captain Helia had taken her city away, brought Atlantis heel like a trained pup when called by one of her true-born children. Elizabeth knew that the expedition amounted to little more than squatters in the eyes of _Tria's_ crew, that no legal precedent on any planet gave them the right to stay; but that hadn't stopped her from pleading anyway, in the privacy of her—their—Helia's office. _We have bled for this city,_ she said. _We searched for it for years. We defended it as passionately as you once did._ And Helia had looked at her with those sad and distant eyes and said, _We will consider it._

Elizabeth wanted more than consideration; she wanted to take Helia down to the stasis room and show her how her other self had stayed, had slept, had nursed this city until the expedition could come revive it and save it. But it wouldn't have mattered, because Elizabeth wasn't a Lantean, not even a far-off descendant. And that was the verdict Helia issued after closed consultation with her crew: those personnel with the ATA gene, whether naturally or from Carson's therapy, were welcome to stay in the city and "liaise" with its new masters. Those and only those.

Elizabeth had avoided the therapy for years because of the unknown risk of long-term ill effects. She asked Carson for it then. It didn't take in her.

"This is not the last time we will meet," Teyla said as they said their goodbyes. She pressed her forehead to John's, to Elizabeth's, even to Rodney's, and lifted her bag in her hands. "Surely the Ancestors will not shut us out forever."

Ronon was more solemn, shaking John's hand and punching Rodney on the arm hard enough to stagger him. He didn't seem to know what to do with Elizabeth. "I, uh…thanks," he finally blurted. "For everything."

"This isn't goodbye," Elizabeth reminded him, trying to mimic Teyla's optimism, but one side of his mouth quirked up like he could tell she didn't feel it. He walked backward through the wormhole that lead to New Athos, eyes never leaving his friends; Teyla faced forward, her back unnaturally straight.

Then it was an Earth wormhole, and it was her turn not to say goodbye; she shook hands with John, long and slow, knowing that words would only embarrass him, and Carson appeared to hug her with tears in his eyes. Even Rodney hugged her, awkwardly, and then held her at arm's length with a clumsy pat like he didn't know what to do next. "We'll, uh, we'll keep in touch," he said. "Obviously. Because somebody has to keep me from screaming when everyone I talk to has a stick the size the CN tower up their—"

"Rodney," John warned, without having to toss his head back at the Lantean gate technician. He looked at Elizabeth with wounded eyes and added, "We'll keep the light on for you."

She took a deep breath and said the words she'd been dreading. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, until General O'Neill arrives with the _Daedalus,_ you have sole command of the Atlantis expedition."

He nodded, and suddenly snapped a salute at her that hurt more than she could bear. With one last look at Rodney and Carson, she turned around, to watch the other exiles passing through the event horizon. She'd lead the way to Pegasus, but she made certain she was last to go.

At first Rodney was good as his word; they all were. Her email was deluged with messages at every databurst: Rodney grudgingly admitting how much progress he'd made with the help of the Lantean engineers; Carson discussing arcane biochemical experiments that had something to do with Ascension; John grousing about how, for the crew of a warship, these Lanteans had precious little respect for the military, and the increasingly contrived "exercises" he and Lorne resorted to in order to keep their meager platoon-and-a-half out of trouble.

At some point the messages became fewer. Rodney spoke in vague terms now, waving away _the hard math part_ and promising miracles now that he and the Lanteans were really collaborating. Carson mentioned a spate of minor illnesses among the Earth-born population and rather more rumors about blossoming intercultural romance. John admitted in a roundabout way that maybe Helia wasn't _all that bad_ but didn't explain why, and made some noise about a visit to New Athos. When Jack O'Neill reached the city he took time to send her a personal note: _I figured Sheppard and McKay would've taken this place apart with bare hands by now. They seemed so much more interesting in the reports._

Eventually the messages tapered off altogether. Rodney dropped anvil-sized hints about a forthcoming revelation and then left her hanging. Carson was worried about a spreading stomach bug but gave her no last update. Lorne sent a message on John's behalf, that the colonel was ill and it would be a few days before he started writing his own emails again. He never did.

Elizabeth assumed that they stopped writing to her because she never responded—couldn't respond, not when it hurt so much. She couldn't blame them for giving up on her when some days she was nearly ready to give up on herself. She let those connections lapse, and it was up to her to revive them, except every unanswered message and every hour of silence seemed to widen the gulf and make it that much harder to open a new message and start out with _I'm sorry._ They had not said goodbye, she told herself. This exile was not forever.

And when she returned to Atlantis, it wouldn't matter if Helia was in charge. It would be like returning home.

-\\--\\--\\-

The outgoing wormhole alarms were muted inside the control room, and Helia's voice was cool and crisp. "Mr. Woolsey," she said. "I was under the impression that your world did not possess an adequate power source to dial Atlantis directly."

"We've configured a stopgap measure in light of the current emergency," Woolsey said. "I'm afraid it won't last very long."

"What emergency do you speak of?" Helia asked.

Landry leaned forward into the camera. "The minimum weekly databurst is currently twelve hours overdue and counting, and there have been no intermediate bursts for the past seven days. Our agreement stipulates that our people be allowed to transmit on a regular basis in order to check in with us."

"Perhaps they have nothing to say," Helia suggested with a bland calm.

"We've detected signs of tampering in the last two databursts we received from Atlantis," Elizabeth said, gripping her briefing notes to avoid clawing at the screen in a cold rage. "Data was erased or overwritten after compression, which could only happen while it was buffered within the primary communication console, awaiting transmission. And our scientists suggest that some of the research data which has been sent by our people in Pegasus has been deliberately falsified."

Helia stared at them, and tilted her head to the side slightly. "What are you alleging, Dr. Weir?" she asked.

Woolsey cleared his throat. "We wish to speak with our personnel in private over a secure channel. An option which is also part of our agreement with you."

Elizabeth held her breath while Helia stared at them, no longer sad, but still as ice. Finally, she said, "We will arrange it within the hour. Terminate this wormhole so we may dial out."

It failed on its own before Landry gave the order; the generator they'd jury-rigged from parts of old Jaffa weapons had given out. While the waited for Helia's reply, Woolsey asked grimly, "Assessment?"

"She's lying through her teeth," Landry said. "As far as I'm concerned, we can't trust anything that we've received since the handover."

"They may not have scrubbed personal communications as thoroughly as official ones," Elizabeth suggested, but she realized if she mentioned the illness she'd also have to mention a certain amount of fraternization between the Lanteans and her people—yes, still hers—and she knew what it would sound like the moment she framed the words in her mind. Nothing to say, of course. Would they even say anything to her? Some of them, like John, had gone halfway native long before the _Tria_ arrived…

Woolsey, however, was busy giving authorization to go through private materials in the archived databursts, not asking her what she knew. Of course, she'd snubbed them just as thoroughly as everyone else in the last six weeks; the probably assumed she knew nothing. She hoped to god she didn't.

Fifty-four minutes later came the unscheduled activation. The technician read off his screen. "Receiving Atlantis IDC, sir…encrypted channel. Dr. McKay's authorization code."

Elizabeth shared a look with Woolsey and read an alarm to match her own. Landry just nodded at the technician. "Put him on."

The screen flashed to life, showing what could be any lab in Atlantis. Rodney was wearing a cream-colored Lantean jacket instead of his uniform, and it only seemed to highlight how pale he had become, the dark swell of his pupils. "General Landry, Mr. Woolsey…Elizabeth!" he said, with what seemed to be genuine pleasure and a slight slur. "Hey, long time no see, huh? I only emailed you about five hundred times…"

"Dr. McKay," Woolsey said. "What is the status of the Earth forces in Atlantis?"

"Status?" Rodney repeated dully. "We…we're fine, what are you talking about?"

"You've missed multiple check-ins," Landry pointed out.

"So?" Rodney shrugged. "We've been busy. Busy people here. Busy, busy, busy…"

A vein jumped in Woolsey's temple. "Busy with what, precisely?"

"You know," Rodney said with a wave. "Science."

"Rodney," Elizabeth said slowly, waiting for his eyes to shift to where she must have been on his screen. "There's been some problems with the databurst. Dr. Lee thinks someone on Atlantis has been tampering with your research reports."

He blinked stupidly for a minute as if she'd lapsed into Goa'uld, but then shook his head. "What? No. No, no, no, that can't be, I mean, she says…and wait a minute, how does he even know? He could be wrong, you know. She said the data was solid, she said…I mean, if Bill wants to argue with my math, I can send the complete proof, but I assumed he could work it out on his own…"

"Rodney, back up," Elizabeth said. "Who said your data was solid?"

"Tethys," Rodney said, and then suddenly grinned. "I didn't tell you, did I? I was so busy I forgot to tell you!"

"Tell me what, Rodney?" Elizabeth asked.

He beamed into the camera. "I got married!"

Elizabeth's heart broke a little at the words, and Woolsey swelled up like an angry cat, but Landry, unexpectedly, cut in. "When exactly did this happen, Doctor?"

"I…I don't…two weeks ago?" Rodney frowned. "One week? Maybe? I'm a little, I've been busy, but Tethys says that's okay…she's so, she's, seriously, Elizabeth, you need to meet her." That dopey smile was back, though not as wide as before. "We don't, they don't do rings or anything here, but when I found out, you know, about the baby, Captain Helia agreed—"

"Baby?" Elizabeth echoed. "Did you say there's a baby?"

"Yeah, surprise, huh?" Rodney shrugged. "I mean, I was surprised, I didn't think…but Tethys says…and I was going to ask Carson to, to be, um, but Carson's…" The smile started to slip off Rodney's face, just a bit. "Carson's…he's okay. He's going to be okay."

Woolsey came forward, shouldering Elizabeth back a pace. "Dr. McKay, I'd like to speak to General O'Neill. Is he available?"

"What?" Rodney's face fell, and a familiar crease appeared between his eyebrows. "O'Neill? No, he's…they're…Tethys says they're going to get better, she promised, they just, they're…not okay, right now." He swallowed hard. "O'Neill's not okay."

Woolsey started to speak again, but Elizabeth seized his shoulder and stilled him; she was positive that the shadows behind Rodney had just moved. "Rodney, are you alone?" she asked.

He blinked at her. "Of course not, Tethys is—"

The connections suddenly snapped to static, and the wormhole closed.

For a moment they were frozen in place, and then Landry cleared his throat loudly. "Sergeant," he said, "as soon as SG-1 return to base, I want Colonel Carter to find a way to divert the gate bridge to another planet in Pegasus. Have SG-2 and SG-7 report to base and gear up for a mission, along with a medical team, and get me Stephen Caldwell on a secure line." He glanced at Elizabeth. "Anyone else?"

"Radek Zelenka," she said. "He's in Prague, but he knows as much about Atlantis' systems as Rodney."

Woolsey scowled at them both. "Excuse me, but I don't believe the IOA have authorized any missions—"

Landry stabbed a finger up at the dark screen. "Richard, look me in the eye and tell me that man was not stoned off his gourd."

Another round of alarmed began. "Unscheduled off—"

"We can see that, Walter," Landry said. "Three guesses who it's from."

"Atlantis IDC, sir."

Helia's face snapped onto the screen. "Doctor Weir," she said. "Before you get any foolish ideas, I want to inform you that you will not be permitted to return to Atlantis under any circumstances."

Elizabeth pushed her way past Woolsey and crossed her arms. "You're as good as holding my people hostage," she shot back. "Do you really expect me to leave them there?"

"They made a choice to stay among us," Helia said. "They are out of your jurisdiction, and quite frankly, beyond your reach."

"We left Atlantis in the good faith that our people would be safe."

For the first time since Elizabeth met her, Helia's face broke into something almost approaching a smile. "I assure you, they are quite well cared-for."

Elizabeth saw red. "Captain Helia, if you do not return my people to Earth—all of them—safe and unharmed, immediately, we will have no choice but to extract them by force."

"You are welcome to try, Dr. Weir," Helia said, and one of her hands moved to rest on her own stomach. "But you must be aware that we will be fighting to protect our home…and our families."

The connection broke in a burst of static.

"You had no authority to speak on behalf of this planet," Woolsey said quietly. Elizabeth just looked at him. "I'm not disagreeing with you, merely reminding."

"We'll convene for a briefing as soon as Colonel Carter returns from her mission," Landry said. "They're scheduled to check in at thirteen hundred hours. What time is that in Prague?"

Elizabeth slipped out of the control room while Landry arranged the particular details of dragged Radek out of his comfortable life in Prague. She pressed her forehead against the cool concrete wall, but in her mind's eye it was the soaring glass of Atlantis, and Rodney was blathering, drugged-out and happy, and _O'Neill is not okay_ and _they are quite well cared-for_ and…

"Elizabeth." It was Woolsey, showing a shred of genuinely human concerned as he reached out to touch her elbow. "We'll get them back."

"I know we will," she said. "I'm just afraid of what condition they'll be in when we do."


End file.
